


between the lines

by blushymika



Series: Tender Ash [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Injury, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Magic, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-03-04 22:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18821626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blushymika/pseuds/blushymika
Summary: When the rumours of a magical flower start spreading around the city of Xanathar, Hazel and her friends decide to put themselves to the test of finding the treasure.





	between the lines

**Author's Note:**

> i thought up these ocs in august and never put them to good use until now. this is something i wrote for a class, but i decided to put it up here anyways just for fun!!
> 
> anyways here are their ages:  
> ara - 12  
> sage - 18  
> valentine - 19  
> natalia - 20  
> lucas - 19  
> hazel - 18

When Ara is told her very first bedtime story, she dreams of so-called fantasies becoming realities on the following night. She dreams of dragons perched on mountaintops, knights in shining armour, princesses in lacy gowns, and giant squids that emerge from the darkness of the sea to haunt sailors even in their nightmares.

Tonight, Ara dreams of her brother, Sage. She dreams of eyes as grey as clouds after a storm and hair so dark that it could rival ash itself. With her brother, Ara dreams of warmth, adventure, and knowledge, for when she is with him, she learns something new every day.

From Sage, Ara learns about the destruction of cities that date back hundreds of years and plagues that have decimated populations in a matter of days. From Sage, Ara learns about home; she learns about love.

From her mother, Ara learns about a sort of horror she never knew existed in the first place.

But now, as she sleeps by Sage’s side in the middle of who knows where, she realizes that everything may not seem as happy as it does on the inside. And, for a mere twelve-year-old, her unhappiness starts to become a little too hard to bear.

Bonds—sacred bonds—run deep within everyone’s veins, but maybe sometimes they’re placed a little too close to the heart.

The next morning, the sun rises and paints the sky with the colours of an autumn afternoon. Across what was once darkness are soft bursts of orange, red, yellow, and small streaks of purple that line the edges of the clouds. Sunlight washes over the forest, casting shadows in front of every tree and rock as a few flowers turn to greet the sun with a cheery good morning.

Several hours later, underneath the sunrise and in the shelter of the canopy, Ara wakes up with a jolt to the smell of fire and what vaguely smells like a rabbit roasting on a spit. Her hand meets her chest, holding it steady as her heart pounds and beats its fists against her rib cage. Her eyes burst open and wander quickly over what’s around her: an empty makeshift bed, canteens, bandages, empty containers of ink, and scrolls that buzz impatiently with unused magic. Her mind, on the other hand, reminds her of hands that wake her from her slumber, hands that force her to unconsciousness, and hands that abandon her and leave her to the wolves.

The cold morning air whips across her skin, causing goosebumps to sprout as the girl sits up and spends five more minutes recomposing herself. Once Ara leaves the familiarity of her tent, she squints as the sunlight sends dull aches of pain through her eyes. Suddenly, she feels like one of the vampires she killed two months ago as her vision eventually adjusts and transfixes on the blazing fire before her. Encircling the campfire are two tents other than her own and, beside that, she sees Sage who is cooking breakfast. Upon the sight, Ara smiles through her fatigue. On her hands and knees, she makes her way over to Sage. When she reaches her brother, she jumps, allowing her weight to fall on Sage’s back as her arms envelope his shoulders.

As Ara expects, Sage screams, arms flailing about and hand reaching for some sort of weapon. She laughs, unable to hold it back.

“Ara!” Sage complains, his voice a pitch higher than usual. “I could’ve fallen into the fire!”

Ara shakes her head, hugging Sage a little tighter. “You’re much smarter than that!” she compliments, but somehow Sage does not seem to be flattered.

Sage scowls, keeping half of his attention on their breakfast as he keeps an eye on Ara. “Well, thanks,” he murmurs. “But intelligence will get you nowhere if you’re dead and burning in a fire.”

Ara snorts, giggling. “Wow, you are so smart.”

Sage pinches Ara’s side with a chuckle. “I was making a joke.”

Today, it’s officially been a year since Ara stumbled upon Sage in the woods and saved his life. At times, a bloodthirsty pack of wolves can be tricky to tackle, especially for a user of magic who isn’t very experienced with tight quarters. If you handle the situation right, however, you’ll escape with only one missing limb; that is, though, if you’re lucky. Or, in their case, if a little girl comes in to save the day with a handy bow and arrow.

Fortunately, Sage was blessed enough to not have lost an arm and, most importantly, his head. If Ara hadn’t arrived in time, Sage’s death would have surely been a burden on her conscience, in spite of the fact that they weren’t even acquaintances at the time.

There’s too much death in the world these days, Ara believes, and it’s not a good thing. With how things are right now, the world requires some sort of change. As naïve as Ara may be, she knows major changes like these aren’t easy. She does know that death, however, comes at an expensive price and it isn’t something Ara thinks is worth paying for again.

“You two get noisier every day. Quiet down, will you?” a voice calls from the closed tent set beside theirs.

Valentine opens up his tent and takes a step onto dry grass. It rained yesterday, but Sage’s shield around their campsite has proven itself to be rather useful. They have a long day ahead of them and, knowing his friends, Sage is sure they wouldn’t want to deal with Valentine’s complaints, especially if they had been soaked last night. After all, Valentine can be a bit of a princess when he wants to be.

“You’re finally awake,” Sage announces as he continues turning the metal rod that he skewered through the rabbit thirty minutes ago.

“There’s no harm in sleeping in,” Valentine says, placing both of his hands on the back of his neck. “We don’t have to go until—well, whatever time you said yesterday. I wasn’t listening.”

“We’re leaving in forty-five minutes!” Ara tells him like she’s proud that she knows and Valentine doesn’t.

“Forty-five minutes then,” Valentine corrects. “Hazel better not be wasting our time.”

“She isn’t. She’s a smart person, but besides that, get over here,” Sage demands. His eyes wander over to Valentine before fixating onto their now roasted food. “Breakfast is ready. Oh, and while you’re at it, fix your hair. It’s a mess.”

As Ara teases Valentine about his bed hair, Sage takes the roasted rabbit and starts splitting it into six portions. The smell penetrates his nose and it reminds him vaguely of charred chicken. The sensation is sharp and uncomfortable and, in response, Sage forces himself to turn away. According to Valentine, all meat always ends up tasting like chicken anyways. When Valentine told Hazel about his discovery, she, being a food connoisseur, smacked him over the back of his head.

The point is, however, that Sage’s rabbit is burnt.

He’s never been the best cook, unfortunately, but Hazel had insisted that she accompany Natalia and Lucas on their morning adventure to patrol the area. Hazel’s departure leaves Sage with two options: cook the rabbit himself or wait for Valentine to wake up. If Sage decided to make breakfast himself, he may have burned or undercooked their food; that is most definitely a con. On the other hand, if Sage waited for Valentine to wake up, Ara would have moped and whined about how hungry she would be and Valentine’s cooking skills are just as lacklustre, but they’re at least a little bit better than his own. In the end, the most logical option was to cook breakfast himself and avoid seeing his little sister sulk; so why didn’t it work out the way it should have?

“Do you think there’s a chance to roast another rabbit before they get back?” Sage asks, trying to hide the embarrassment in his voice.

“Huh, Mr. Sage, our all-knowing wizard, can’t cook?” Valentine quips, taking a seat on the ground beside the boy ( _man_ , Sage would correct—he’s eighteen) in question. “Who would’ve known?”

Ara slams her fist down on Valentine’s head as a wordless warning: stop teasing him.

“Fine, fine,” Valentine grumbles, batting Ara away with one hand and rubbing his head with the other. “Here, give me that.”

Sage hands Valentine the rabbit before giving him his full attention.

“What?” Valentine asks, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t think I can do it, huh?”

“No,” Sage denies and turns away from what remains of their party.

At the sight of her brother, Ara narrows her eyes at Valentine and crosses her arms over her chest. In response, Valentine shrugs and takes one of the many knives hanging by his waist. He twirls it in his hand just to show off before placing the edge near the now roasted animal.

“You’re gonna use your knife that you use to stab people to cut our food?” Ara questions, squatting down beside Valentine sitting on a log.

“Well, I’m gonna try and cut off the burnt parts with it, but yeah. Before I do that, does anyone have a preference? A favourite part, maybe?”

“That’s unsanitary,” Sage says, not bothering to turn around.

Valentine opens his mouth to make another snide remark, but Sage beats him to it.

“I may not be the cook here, and neither are you, but at least I know a thing or two about hygiene.”

Valentine stands up, grumbling something underneath his breath as he hands their breakfast to Ara. There’s something lying within the depths of Sage’s voice that Valentine recognizes to be frustration, an emotion that stems from one of Sage’s many insecurities. “Did I do something to upset you because, really, all I’m trying to do is fix your mistake before Hazel comes back and beats your ass for burning our food.”

This time, Sage turns around and gives Valentine a cold, yet heated, glare. The look is icy and intense and sends chills down Ara’s spine. She takes a step back as Valentine stands up and steps forward, fearless and unrelenting as always.

Before an argument can ensue, three forms burst through the shrubbery, without bothering to conceal themselves, and into the clearing. Normally, the shield, encompassing the campsite, would have turned an unnatural, vibrant shade of red and alerted the three figures surrounding the fire, but there’s no need for warnings among friends.

Natalia, leaves in her hair, trudges forward with Hazel and Lucas by her side. Her steps are heavy and exaggerated as she walks, occasionally swatting Lucas’ hand as he tries to pick out the leaves from her hair.

“Ow! Quit it!” Lucas whines, rubbing the top of his hand before using it to give Natalia a small shove. “Gods, I’m just trying to help you.”

Natalia crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t need help,” she says as Hazel takes the last leaf and lets it fall onto the ground. “Thank you.”

“Then why does she—never mind, I can’t argue when it comes to you two,” Lucas huffs, with his arms over his chest, and decides to copy Natalia.

Hazel chokes out a laugh—the little breathless one that is frustratingly contagious—and leans in to whisper in Natalia’s ear. From what Ara can see as the three pass through Sage’s shield, Hazel’s comment makes Natalia smile, even if it’s just a bit.

“Good morning!” Valentine cheers, and his anger, like the flick of a switch, dissipates immediately. Sage frowns; the older boy has always had better control over his emotions than he does. “Oh, Nat, fell out of a tree, did you?”

Natalia shakes her head. “Lucas tripped me.”

“Did not! She tripped over a root and fell on her face,” Lucas tells them. “She’s just too embarrassed to admit it.”

“I did no such thing. I’m not dumb.”

“Then what’s that bandage for?” Valentine asks with a hand on his chin. “Unless… you’ve got—”

“A boo-boo,” Ara finishes with a proud nod and with her hand on her chin as well.

“Exactly,” Valentine says.

“It’s an injury, not a boo-boo,” Natalia insists, the word sounding stupid and unnatural on her lips.

“They’re the same thing,” Ara shoots back.

“It’s an injury,” Natalia argues.

“A boo-boo.”

“ _Injury_.”

“ _Boo-boo_.”

“Okay,” Natalia stops, putting an end to their bickering and letting out a puff of exasperation. “It’s not a boo-boo because one; I’m twenty years old and two; it’s simply _not_ a boo-boo.”

“Sage gets them all the time and he’s eighteen,” Ara justifies.

“Well, I’m not your idiot brother.”

Hazel places her hand on an enraged Ara’s head when Sage’s hand meets his own forehead with a groan, successfully stopping the twelve-year-old from doing anything impulsive.

“How about we wrap this up and eat breakfast, yeah?” Hazel suggests and she gives Natalia a look; the latter backs off and shuffles uncomfortably, rubbing her head. “Sage, where’s breakfast?”

“Here,” Ara declares and holds up the burnt rabbit for Hazel to see like it’s a newly received trophy. Unlike a trophy, however, their breakfast isn’t sparkling in the sunlight and it definitely isn’t something to be proud of. Instead, it’s as black as Valentine’s hair and all Sage can feel is shame, more shame, and even more shame.

“Sage!” Hazel exclaims, taking the ‘meal’ from Ara’s hands. “You overcooked it!”

“Well, from the looks of it, he most likely threw the whole thing into the fire,” Valentine butts in with a sneer.

Before Sage shoots another glare in Valentine’s direction, he says: “Hazel, you’re cooking every single meal from now on. It’s settled.”

“How is that fair?” Hazel grunts, placing her hands on her hips. “You can’t make me do all the work.”

A furious wave of comments that run along the lines of “that’s totally unfair” and “don’t be so lazy” hits Sage like a tidal wave, but he doesn’t waver.

“If you all want to eat this kind of food from now on,” Sage begins and gestures to the monstrosity Hazel had just set down on the floor, “then, by all means, I’ll cook.”

From this point onward, there is no sound to be heard. As the silence falls and settles into the atmosphere, Sage watches his friends, who don’t know what to say, shift awkwardly amongst each other but are too prideful to admit that he’s right. Even Valentine, the idiot that he is, has put a stop to his disparaging behaviour.

It’s time to call his own victory, Sage decides, so he smiles with his hands on his hip even though his achievement is far too bittersweet for his taste.

 

* * *

 

It’s been about an hour of travelling when Valentine’s foot, with a splat, lands into a patch of mud. Lucas sucks in a breath through his teeth as Sage clamps his hands over Ara’s ears to prepare her for what’s about to come. And, knowing Valentine, it’s not going to be something that one would hear in a church.

“Son of a bitch!” Valentine swears and retrieves his shoe from its muddy prison. “These are new boots!”

“Oh no,” Hazel says without feeling. “Whatever will you do?”

Natalia smiles and continues the joke, “It’s the end of the world.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Valentine tells them before sparing Sage a glance. “Maybe Sage has something that can help me.”

“No, most definitely not,” Sage responds with a huff.

“Why not?” Valentine chuckles and gives him a smile along with another, yet long, look.

Sage’s forces himself to turn away when he responds with, “They’re boots.” His expression falls, remembering how Valentine’s dark, unending eyes have apologized to him with as much sympathy as they could muster.

He’s forgiven, of course, for their stupid argument from this morning. And, of course, Sage is going to apologize for his behaviour as well. And, besides that, of course Sage is disappointed because Valentine is now an inch taller than he is, but his true disappointment lies elsewhere in an unspeakable part of his heart that he has locked with chain after chain.

Lucas’ blond hair falls in front of his face when he leans down to level his eyes with Sage’s as he says, “Sage, you okay?”

The latter’s frown deepens because, in reality, their height difference isn’t exactly something that could take one’s breath away, but Lucas insists on throwing hints right at Sage’s head at least twice a day.

“Fine,” Sage blurts, batting Lucas’ face away from his own as his mind wanders. “I’m fine.”

Hazel looks at Sage suspiciously before deciding to let it go.

“Guys, we’re here,” Hazel announces, folding the map and returning it to its place inside her bag. From what Ara can see as she tries to sneak a peek, everything inside Hazel’s knapsack is clean and organized. And, unlike her own, it also doesn’t smell like rotten meat.

“This could be dangerous,” Sage says.

“You say that about everything,” Valentine claims. “Trust yourself for once; have some faith. Nothing could be dangerous if you’re around to protect us.”

Sage eyes him carefully as he, to his sister’s protest (“No! It’s for the animals!”), cleans her bag of rancid meat, searching for the signs that Valentine doesn’t actually believe in his own words, but finds himself unable to do so.

“Do you guys remember what we’re searching for?” Hazel asks.

“Some kind of plant,” Lucas answers.

“Not just any kind of plant,” Hazel corrects, tying up her hair, but the curls still meet the tip of her spine as they dance like fire in the wind. “It’ll keep someone young forever.”

“It’s probably some kind of forbidden spell,” Natalia adds.

“Isn’t that a sign that we shouldn’t be anywhere near this thing then?” Sage says.

“I work with this kind of stuff all the time,” Natalia tells him. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not. I’m just _saying_ —”

“Can we go already?” Ara interrupts while bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Valentine says we’ll be fine!”

From behind Ara, Valentine flashes the rest of the group a signature grin as he gives them all a thumbs up.

“That’s not exactly reassuring,” Hazel sighs. “But whatever—let’s go.”

The party soon enters the cave with their weapons by their sides and with magic at hand. Lucas shuffles backwards until he’s at the back of the group as the rest of the team take their positions with silent footsteps: Natalia in front of Lucas, Hazel in front of her, and Ara and Valentine in the front behind Sage. A ball of light forms in the confines of Sage’s palm, the darkness of the cave receding around him until the jagged edges of rocks and stalactites come into view. At first, the light begins to crackle as it dances, but then it becomes almost completely quiet when it prances around and sneaks into every crevice of the underground passageway.

Deeper into the cavern is what seems to be water dripping from the ceiling. The sounds of the droplets are faint and echo throughout the cave as they fall into a pool of endless, dark water as if time has slowed down. In the distance, far-off cries from bats and growls from unknown animals keep everyone on edge as their grips tighten on their blades. Sage’s light flickers and threatens to disappear when he’s reminded of how he first met Ara and how death tastes like blood and sinew and how all nine of the Hells smell like a mindless, hungry pack of wolves.

When Sage completes his spell, the light grows and brightens as black and purple sparks of electricity appear in Natalia’s hands. Her own magic fizzles to life before it collects and swirls at the tips of her fingers. Swords, knives, and bows are drawn with a series of sounds such as stretched hemp and the sharp scraping of steel against leather.

“Is everyone ready?” Sage whispers.

His words are laced with concern as he turns around to face his friends. Sage’s forehead is creased as his eyebrows knit together, and the sight tempts Valentine to stop and tell him, “You’ll look like an old man by the age of twenty-four if you continue like this.”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Valentine responds instead.

“Keep moving,” Hazel says, her voice hushed, and she directs her attention towards her friend in front. “I’ll tell you everything as we get closer.”

Sage nods and takes a step forward, starting their adventure through an unknown cave in the search for a magical flower (which does sound kind of stupid when he thinks about it).

Finally, after twenty-five minutes of “I’m bored” and “I miss the sun already” from Ara, Sage comes to a halt in front of a door. When Valentine notices that Sage has stopped, he stops as well, causing Ara’s forehead to bump into the middle of Valentine’s back.

“Oof.”

“What is it?” Natalia mumbles in question.

Sage narrows his eyes, holding his hand closer to his recent discovery. “It’s a door.”

As the light illuminates what Sage is trying to see, his eyes adjust and his instincts suddenly come to life as he takes four more steps back until he can feel Valentine’s chest behind his back. He stumbles, eyes wandering over cracked and carved stone.

“Whoa, hey, what’s wrong?” Valentine asks, steadying a stumbling Sage with his hands on his shoulders.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Sage claims.

“Are you worrying again?” Hazel demands, the map now in her hands.

“Whoever told you this—did they not tell you what we would be dealing with?”

“They did. But what’s the problem?”

Sage bites his lip and brings the light closer to the entrance of the temple.

“This is a Rochian temple. Look at the crest on the door,” he elaborates with tongues of red magic curling around the palms of his hands. When Sage doesn’t see worried expressions start to take their forms on his friends’ faces, he sighs and lowers his head. “What I’m trying to say here is that we’ll die if we go in there.

“The Rochian people… they’re cunning, calculating, and well—they’re smart. They make amazing traps; they specialize in every single field of magic. We’re way out of our league here. They’re known for these kinds of things, these temples, because they’ll kill us before we can even get a chance to—”

“Were you saying something?”

Sage stops mid-sentence as he raises his head. The magic forming around him dissipates quickly as another sigh escapes him because,  _of course_ , the door is wide open. “Never mind then.

Valentine laughs, dropping tripwires and rusty knives from out of his pockets as he moves closer to Sage. “Told you. You worry too much,” he brags. “I disabled all the traps and I even picked this lock for you. You’re welcome.”

Sage lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when Valentine finally leans back.

“I guess I do,” Sage smiles. “You were always great at picking locks.”

“You most definitely do,” Natalia says, closing her locket before wisps of dark magic escape into their vicinity. It falls back against her chest as Valentine, in the background, moans about how he still _is_ great at picking locks. “You worry far too much actually. If you stopped worrying, you could’ve helped us.”

“Well, if Sage wasn’t such a worry wart, then he wouldn’t be Sage at all,” Hazel comments.

“He always thinks we can’t do anything!” Ara accuses before making a beeline towards Valentine.

“That’s not true,” Sage huffs, smile still on his face. “You’re just all so reckless at times.”

“But we get the job done,” Lucas adds, but in spite of their achievement, Sage can’t help but notice the shallow cut on his friend’s right bicep.

“If you stop being so clumsy then maybe I’ll start worrying less.”

In response, Lucas’ hand slaps over the wound, causing him to wince as he lets out a sheepish laugh. “Oh, this? It’s nothing,” he says, but Sage, bandages in hand, is already making his way over to him.

“Okay, okay, let’s go,” Hazel laughs and takes a place by Sage’s right. “I don’t want to spend the entire day here.”

From behind them, Valentine nods in agreement as they start walking through the temple’s corridors. “Please,” he groans. “It smells like shit in here.”

“You do know that there are alternatives for those kinds of words, right?” Sage tells him with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. “Like, for example: it smells _bad_ in here or it _stinks_ in here or—”

“You are so, so boring, Sage,” Valentine responds. “There’s no fun in using words like that and, besides, there is no word stronger than shit.

“But, anyways, you’re in no place to judge me. I bet you’ve never sworn in your entire life.”

“I have sworn before,” Sage corrects him.

“You’re too much of a goody two-shoes for anything like that, especially swearing,” Lucas agrees.

“Mr. Sage has a stick up his bum.”

Sage lets out a puff of air in frustration. “Fine. I’ll prove you both wrong right now.”

“Really?” Valentine asks.

“Really.”

Sage covers Ara’s ears and Valentine’s breath catches with an audible sound. “Let’s get a fucking move on.”

From the corner of Natalia’s eye, Valentine looks like he’s about to faint.

They continue their trek into the cavern, remaining wary of possible enemies and Natalia’s potential tripping hazards. Ara lets out a sigh, unamused by how her eyes skim over more stone and more stalagmites that have burst through the roof and floor of the temple; nothing has changed. In one of the rooms, Ara spots a pool and she leans over, hoping that she’ll see some fish swimming in the water. Sage pulls her back by her shoulder though and scolds her: “We have to focus, Ara; don’t get distracted.”

So Ara lies and says, “I’m looking for the fi… flower.”

Then, Valentine calls, “well, actually, it’s right here,” when the hallway comes to an end.

As if on cue, the group enters a room and everyone’s eyes follow Valentine’s finger as he points towards their objective. They look even further until their target, thirty feet off the ground and on a bundle of rocks, enters the picture. The plant’s petals are pink, dotted with specks of white, and unfurling as yellow dust escapes from its centre. Hazel mumbles her confirmation that this is what they’re looking for as Sage narrows his eyes, searching for any signs of a charm until a spell hits him like how a hammer hits stone. Its energy washes over him like rich and sparkling bathwater and warmth runs up his spine, sending signals to his brain that relax his muscles almost immediately. Sage’s knees threaten to buckle beneath him.

“Do you feel it too?” Natalia asks, her voice wavering.

“Yeah,” Sage nods and pulls out his spellbook in spite of how his nerves scream for him to stop fighting. He whips through it before he sets it down and recites a spell that he had just learned the other day. The charm dispels instantaneously. “Something dangerous is coming. For real this time.”

As the last word leaves Sage’s lips, four loud thuds alongside a scream echo across the room. He whirls around to see Valentine on his knees with Ara and Natalia crouched around him. Behind his friends is a knight made completely out of stone that has been pushed five feet back from Valentine and Ara, with her bow and arrow, is trying her best, to no avail, to keep it at bay.

Sage’s feet move without thought as he rushes over with Lucas. Three more statues start moving too, causing stone to grind and groan with each movement. Sage’s head, still clouded by the after effects of the flower’s enchantment, is racing as it tries to devise a plan to save Valentine—to save his friends.

He mutters two curses under his breath: one that causes a high, ear splitting noise to emit from his hand as the stone soldier’s head is blown off its shoulders and another one that he aims towards himself.

It’s self deprecating as always and he mutters it in a foreign language to avoid the looks he would usually receive from his friends.

“Sage, switch with me,” Natalia pants and stands up once Sage takes her place.

“Are you okay?” Sage stammers, holding Valentine up by the small of his back as spells of restoration start working on his friend’s wound. Valentine’s arm, now bent in a dangerous and peculiar angle, is swelling with tenderness as splotches of black and purple taint olive skin.

“No,” Valentine wheezes as a sequence of pained groans slip into small sections of his speech. “Definitely not. Fuck, that thing broke my arm.”

“What thing?”

“The thing that you just killed! It came down out of the sky and crushed my arm!” Valentine exclaims before he winces with tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “Fucking shit. Gods, sorry, I keep swearing in front of your sister. Fuck, it hurts.”

“It’s okay,” Ara and Sage say at the same time, but Ara says it with a forced cheer as she runs off to the side and starts taking materials out of her knapsack.

“Are you crying right now?” Sage asks with a hint of amusement in his voice. His medical kit is already by his side as he works to splint Valentine’s arm.

In retaliation, Valentine smacks Sage with his good arm before shooting back, “Fine, I’ll break your arm once we’re done here and let’s see if you cry!”

“You both are so annoying,” Hazel chides, her eyes trained on the three remaining opponents in the room.

Natalia nods in silent agreement as she scrambles to get ahold of her locket and fumbles with the switch. When the necklace finally opens, magic surges forward and explodes out of the item while Hazel and Lucas charge forward.

Stolen Rochian spells burst forth from Natalia’s hand as she holds the piece of jewellery. The blast, even faster than Lucas and Hazel, flies past her allies as it finally meets its target. The soldier stumbles backwards with a hole in its chest, but it regains its footing and continues running to meet the two fighters storming towards it.

“This thing is strong,” Lucas comments as he shares a moment of eye contact with Hazel.

“Yeah, Sage was right about this place,” Hazel says before she calls a bolt of lightning to descend and strike both her axe and Lucas’ broadsword.

Lucas almost flinches from the sudden burst of energy and he notices the way that Hazel chuckles. He scowls and tries to race her, but she beats him to the chase.

Hazel’s feet lift off the floor as she jumps, her axe colliding with the soldier’s arm. The stone breaks almost immediately and, with a bang, the arm crashes to the ground. The statue lashes out with a newfound lust for bloodshed and its sword almost makes contact with Lucas’ shoulder, but he parries the attack and jumps even higher than Hazel.

The enemy’s head falls as its figure crumbles to the ground and Lucas steps over its remains when an arrow almost grazes his ear.

He yelps and turns around to see Ara with a massive grin on her face. Lucas looks at her, confused, before he hears an explosion about twenty feet away. A second later, even more stone collapses onto the floor.

“Explosive arrows!” Ara shouts with delight. “They finally work!”

“Congratulations!” Lucas yells back. “But watch where you aim those things!”

Ara laughs and sticks her tongue out at him as she nocks another arrow, but another explosion beats her to it. The last enemy falls as rocks tumble to the ground.

“What…” Sage says breathlessly as Valentine clutches his wrist in his hand.

“Stole your kill,” Valentine smiles and doesn’t let go.

“You did not,” Sage denies, almost wanting to drop Valentine onto the floor. “I was the one saying the spell!”

Valentine, with sweat collecting on his forehead from the pain, smiles even more. “Well, your hand was shaking the entire time,” he tells him. “You would’ve missed if it weren’t for me.”

“I was not shaking,” Sage denies again, but he notices that he’s stuttering as he goes back to bandaging and splinting his friend’s arm. “I was just worried about you… I’m fine.”

Valentine tilts his head to the side. He doesn’t question Sage any further as he asks, “Are you done?”

“Yeah,” Sage swallows the lump in his throat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” Valentine assures and raises his injured arm to show him, but he stops when pain flows through him once more. Not to Valentine’s surprise, Sage reprimands him with a classic “you’re such an idiot.”

And Sage’s words are filled with warmth, endearment, and something else that Valentine has always had trouble deciphering. But well, he guesses, Sage has always been an enigma.

“Val, how’s your arm?” Natalia demands as the rest of their group, completely unscathed, runs back over.

“Well, as far as broken arms go… I would say that mine’s the best so far.”

“That makes zero sense,” Lucas frowns.

“Yeah, of course. It’s a broken arm,” Valentine deadpans. “It hurts like a bitch.”

“Let’s just get out of here before anything else happens… please,” Hazel requests and she tugs Lucas along to collect their well earned treasure. She ignores Valentine’s pout as she walks past him.

“This thing is, like, thirty feet high,” Lucas says.

“I’ll get on your shoulders.”

“I am not thirty feet tall,” Lucas reminds her. “Although imagine if I was.”

“We’ll save the conversation for what we’d both do if we were thirty feet tall for another day,” Hazel tells him before an idea pops into her head.

“Did you think of something already?” Lucas asks.

“Yeah, but not for if I was insanely tall. It might be a little dangerous.”

“That’s fine.”

“Okay, well… you trust me?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

Hazel shakes her head. “I just need to make sure. I don’t want my best friend falling to his death.”

“Doesn’t sound fun, but we can try it.”

“Great,” Hazel beams and begins making several gestures with her hands until gusts of wind start collecting by Lucas’ feet. “Stay still or you’ll definitely die today.”

“Wait what?”

Hazel’s answer comes in the form of another smile as Lucas is lifted up into the air.

“This doesn’t seem safe!” Sage calls.

“Do you have any better ideas?!” Hazel calls back.

Sage, as predictable as ever, stays silent and the sound of Valentine making a jab at the younger boy barely registers in Hazel’s head as Lucas rises about five feet a second.

Eventually, with a sigh of relief, Lucas’ feet land on solid ground. He falters, but he catches himself on the wall of the cavern before bending down to pick the flower.

“See, Sage, he’s perfectly safe!” Hazel exclaims.

“He almost fell!”

“That’s just Lucas being Lucas!”

“Hey, who’s the one with the magical flower right now?!” Lucas yells with the plant in his hand. “Respect him!”

“Just hurry up and get down,” Natalia scowls and Ara nods beside her.

“I can’t get down without Hazel.”

“Jump,” Valentine suggests. “You’ll make it, Prince Charming. I’m 110% sure.”

“What?!”

“Do a flip!” Valentine exclaims.

“C’mon, Lucas,” Hazel says and begins lowering him down until he’s standing beside her once again. Then, she turns to the rest of them with a grin as she takes all of her friends’ expressions into account. “Let’s go sell this thing.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! <3


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